


Jam and Cheese

by pearl_o



Series: Butter and Honey [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Domestic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:49:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Anya are away, and Charles isn't used to being all by himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jam and Cheese

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocky_slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/gifts).



> I have pages and pages of notes of backstory about this universe; it's about time I got around to getting some of it into story form.

Charles wakes up with a sudden, loud buzz in his ears. It's too early for the morning alarm - the bedroom is still black with the night - and it's coming from the wrong direction, from Erik's side of the bed rather than Charles's nightstand. It takes Charles a moment to realize the source of the noise is the house phone, sitting in the middle of Erik's pillow.

Erik doesn't approve of phones in the bedroom; all the chargers in the house live in the kitchen or living room. There's nothing so important, to Erik's mind, that it can't wait until they gotten a decent amount of sleep. Their bedroom, he's told Charles a dozen times or more, is their sanctuary. No phones, no TV, no computers. Anya's baby monitor is the only disturbance.

But Erik's not here, of course, which is why Charles has taken the opportunity to fill his empty side of the bed with a laptop and a pile of magazines and, yes, the phone. He gropes for it clumsily in the dark, and answers with a yawn.

"Hello?"

"We're here," Erik says.

"What, in London? Already?" Charles rolls over onto his side, checking out the alarm clock. It's later than he thought, almost four. 

"Yes, already," Erik answers dryly. His voice sounds a little tinny, far away - understandable, Charles supposes, with an entire ocean between them. There's a good deal of background noise, which Charles takes to mean they're still in the airport. That means Erik made the explicit effort to call Charles as soon as possible, instead of waiting until they'd reached Magda's flat or the hotel. Good. Erik had snorted a little when Charles ordered him to call as soon as they got in, to let him know that they were safe, but even if he's humoring Charles, at least he's doing it properly.

"How was the flight?" Charles says, fighting another yawn.

"It was fine. Anya slept nearly the whole way, just like I said. I told you there was nothing to worry about. I saw the fruit leather and crayons you snuck into the carry-on."

"I'm sure they'll still come in handy. You can tell her they were a special present from me for being such a good girl." Charles pauses a moment. "Is she awake now? Can I talk to her?"

"Magda dragged her off to get some juice while I manned the baggage claim," Erik says. There's a hint of something in his tone that might be almost apologetic. "She's pretty Mommy-focused right now, I'm afraid. She was clinging to me when we got off the plane, but she almost hurt herself getting away from me to fling herself at Magda."

"Right," Charles says, "no, of course." It's been six months since Anya saw her mother; it's only natural that she would be so eager and happy, with no thoughts to spare for anything else. 

_Even if I'm the one who's here every day, helping to raise her..._ But no, that's an ugly thought, and Charles pushes it away hurriedly. It's only because he's still half-asleep that he even let it through.

It's not as though he doesn't like Magda. She's a lovely woman, brilliant at what she does. What she does, though, is journalism, mostly in war-torn countries around the globe - not exactly a profession that is amenable to having small children around, which is why Erik has custody. Twice a year, though, both of them make an effort for one of these vacations, a week or two to allow Anya this family time. They take turns - a year ago, Erik and Anya had made this same journey to London to meet her, but Charles and Erik had only just begun dating then. Six months ago, Magda had come to the U.S., and Charles had met her for the first time when she came to dinner at their home.

Charles has never been one to be jealous of his partner's exes, and he's not jealous of Magda, exactly. She and Erik don't act like people who had once been married, or even lovers; the way they act around one another is more like brother and sister. They even look enough alike to be related, both of them dark and slim and tall, with model good looks. Anya has a stellar set of genes, though Charles is already dreading the moment in her teenage years when she exceeds him in height.

The fact remains, though, that he's rather awkward and uncomfortable around Magda. It's not something Charles is used to - in general, he find it fairly easy to socialize and get along with people, even if he only truly becomes close with a few. Really, it's a frustrating situation, and one that makes him feel like somewhat of an arse. He'd been relieved when the visit came to an end, six months ago.

Still, even given that, he'd much rather repeat that experience again than do this: his family thousands of miles away. Too far for Charles to reach out and feel the familiar patterns of their minds and thoughts; he's been experimenting with his range the last few months, with Erik's occasional business trips up and down the Eastern seaboard, but England is definitely out of the question.

Charles sighs into the phone. "I miss you."

"We haven't even been gone half a day, and you've been asleep half that time," Erik points out, logically enough, though his voice is soft and sympathetic in a way that makes Charles feel warm all over. 

"I'm not used to being all alone in this big bed," Charles says plaintively, and he imagines he can see Erik's fond private smile, indulgent for Charles like it is for nobody else. 

"I'm in public, you know," Erik reminds him.

"But you'll call me later, when you're alone, and make it up to me."

A laugh: short and soft, but still. Charles counts that as a victory. "Fine. But now I need to get our bags. Go back to sleep, and I'll talk to you later."

"Don't forget," Charles says. "Goodbye, Erik."

"Goodbye, Charles."

Charles ends the call and drops the phone onto the sheets beside him. He rolls over, collecting the blankets around him, a huge comfy nest with no one to challenge him for access, and falls back asleep.


End file.
